Precious Moments, Special People
by scathach124
Summary: Sybil and Tom Branson have invited the Crawleys, the Pelhams, and their children to Dublin for Christmas. Lady Sybil Lives AU with family fluff. Written for this year's S/T Secret Santa exchange on Tumblr.


_**Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays one and all! **This was written for the S/T Secret Santa 2015, for **kidyouhavenoidea**_. _The prompt was:_ 1920's Lady Sybil Lives AU; Sybil, Tom and Sybbie have invited Mary/Matthew+George and Edith/Bertie(or Michael or Anthony if that suits you better)+Marigold to spend Christmas at their place.

 _I decided to steer away from any drama or angst (shocking) and go with the family fluff. The ships are, of course, Sybil/Tom + Sybbie, Mary/Matthew + George, and Edith+Bertie + Marigold. I'm not going to specify a year, but assume Sybbie is 5-6 years old, George is 4, and Marigold is 2-3. I hope whomever reads this enjoys this, even though it's just pointless happy family Christmassy fluff._

 _Have a wonderful holiday season!_

* * *

 _ **Precious Moments, Special People**_

 **Written for kidyouhavenoidea**

 _December, Dublin_

As Sybil, Mary and Edith sat in the sitting room, having their afternoon tea, the children stood by the windows facing the street, much too enamoured by the softly falling snow to be distracted by even a gingerbread biscuit. The world outside was only just being graced by a pure-white dusting, not yet enough to build a snowman as the children hoped to do together for their holiday in Dublin. So in the meantime, Sybbie was showing George and Marigold how to make snowmen on the windowpanes, their little fingers drawing circles across the frosted glass through which they watched the snow come down. Their mothers watched them at their quiet play as they sipped hot tea and nibbled on the sweet pastries Sybil had bought especially for the Christmas season.

"Oh my," Mary said, noticing the falling snow. "I hope our husbands will be back soon."

"I doubt they'll be out for much longer," Sybil replied. "The market where the Christmas trees were being sold is not too far. Tom knows how to bargain for the best ones."

"How tall will it be?" Edith asked.

Sybil thought. "I don't know. Usually we get one that isn't much taller than Tom. But this year we decided if there was a bigger one we'd splurge and put that one up. I mean, we have a good occasion for a larger tree this year."

"I hope it won't be _too_ large," Mary said, "because your ceiling in here is rather low."

"It'll be fine," Sybil assured her.

Sybbie turned away from the window for a moment, calling to her mother, "When will Da be back? It's getting dark."

"He'll be back in a little while, dear," Sybil answered. "Keep watching for him, and tell us when you see him and your uncles."

Sybbie nodded and turned back to the window, peeking through the window on her toes. All three mothers smiled at their respective children.

"I'm so happy all of you could come this year," Sybil said to her sisters. "Really, it means so much to Tom and I. And Sybbie's always longed to spend Christmas with her cousins."

"You were so insistent about it I couldn't see any other way," Edith said. "Somehow I feel that all of us here has put things into chaos. Your house is so much fuller than is normally is, after all."

"I keep telling you Edith, it really is no trouble," Sybil reassured. "We have enough bedrooms so space was never a problem, and there's so much more life in the house now. Sybbie's terribly excited to have playmates at home, and I'm glad to have some help with decorating."

"To be honest, I'm enjoying myself far more than I thought I would," Mary added.

"Thank you for that Mary. I'm so relieved I've exceeded your expectations," Sybil said sardonically.

"Don't get cross with me, dear, I only mean that I don't mind being kept busy helping you decorate or with the cooking, though I'm not much good at either."

"No, you've been an awfully big help with everything. The house looks so lovely, and we have enough treats to feed the whole street," Sybil said. "Truly, it's wonderful spending Christmas together again, just us and our husbands and children."

Edith leaned over so she could see the children still at the window. "Marigold! Come and have a glass of milk."

Marigold was still short enough to require a stool to kneel on to reach the windowpanes, but she was busy making her own little family of misshapen snowmen. "I'm making you and Papa."

"Oh, how nice," Edith said. "But come and eat something."

"She's alright," Sybil told Edith. "If she want something later I'll be happy to give her a small biscuit."

"I don't want her appetite to be ruined," Edith said. "She doesn't get away with things like that at home. Her nanny is rather particular about mealtimes."

"Well, we're much more relaxed about things like that here," Sybil said.

Nevertheless, Marigold climbed down from her stool and tottered into the sitting room. Edith lifted her daughter into her lap and handed her a small glass of milk. Sybbie and George remained at the window, their breath fogging up the glass. It was not long after that they both sang out, bouncing up and down, "I see them! They're here!"

Everyone immediately moved towards the door, Marigold in Edith's arms. Just outside the door they could see Tom, Matthew, and Bertie dragging a thick evergreen down the street.

Sybil moved to open the front door for them. "Children, stand back," she warned them.

As she opened the door wide a flurry of snow blasted through the door. The wind was picking up – would there be a storm later tonight? The children shivered and giggled as they stood by the stairs. Mary gasped aloud as the icy chill hit her and the snowflakes spun into the front room.

"You lot got back here just in time," Sybil remarked.

All three men were smiling broadly, their cheeks and noses red from the cold. They grasped at the branches and trunk of the tree with hands that were probably almost numb, even though every one of them was wearing gloves or mittens. Everyone gawked as they hoisted the tree up the front stairs and pushed it through the front door with difficulty.

"Good heavens Tom!" Sybil said in amazement. "It's … it's _enormous_!"

She bent down to help drag the tree over the threshold by the very top. The branches bent as they brushed against the door jambs, then snapped back, flicking tiny needles across the floor. Together, with plenty of straining, the four of them pushed the massive tree into the house.

Lying on its side in the narrow hallway, it looked absolutely gigantic. The branches were full and thick, and there were plenty of them – not a hole to be seen. It was a rich, dark green, the healthiest an evergreen could potentially look. Even with it on the floor, everyone could see that it was much larger than anyone had imagined it to be.

"My goodness," Mary breathed. "How did you manage to drag _that_ all the way here?"

"Not without a struggle," Matthew said.

Sybil gaped at Tom. "Tom, I know we wanted a bigger tree this year but … did you stop to think that maybe it was a little _too_ big?"

Tom grinned. "It'll fit, don't worry. I saw it upright at the market and it's only a little taller than Matthew."

"But will it fit with the tree stand?" Sybil inquired.

Tom peered at the tree. "Well …"

Sybil waved it off. "Oh, never mind. Let's just get it into the sitting room."

"Perhaps a short break for our special delivery men is in order though," Edith said. "All of you look chilled to the bone."

"Not to mention exhausted," Bertie added. "Dragging this thing down the road in the snow nearly broke my back."

"It wasn't that bad with the three of us," Tom said. "We're big strong men—"

Mary and Sybil snorted.

"You should have taken my sled," Sybbie piped up. "It would have been much easier that way."

"I think a tree this size would have crushed your little sled, Sybbie," Tom laughed. He sneezed suddenly.

"Right then, all of you 'big strong men' come and have a nice hot cup of tea," Sybil directed. "None of you are allowed to catch cold this Christmas."

As the tree reached both walls of the front hall, some people had to carefully step over it to get to the sitting room. Matthew and Tom lifted their children on their backs and carried them through the kitchen and back into the sitting room, George and Sybbie giggling and squealing and Sybil warning them to be careful of the decorations hanging up.

"When can we decorate the tree?" Sybbie asked.

"After we put it up," her mother answered. "However long that will take, I don't know. Then we'll have to bring all the ornament boxes down from the attic."

"It may not be until after supper," Tom said. The children all looked sullen at this, but appeared to cheer up a tad when Sybil added, "But we won't make you go to bed until the tree is completely decorated. No matter how late it gets."

Mary tutted. "You spoil them, Sybil."

"It's Christmastime," Sybil gently retorted, "I think I can be forgiven for spoiling them."

After a quick cup of tea to warm themselves after their trek through the falling snow, the men started to work on getting the tree into its proper place, first pulling it past the chairs in the sitting room and then attaching the tree stand to the trunk. Edith and Sybbie swept up the fallen needles, which had created a green trail from the front hall to the sitting room. Sybil and Mary set to preparing dinner as George and Marigold watched the tree being put upright, with a little bit of careful adjusting to make sure the top branch didn't graze the ceiling. Outside the cozy house the wind began to howl louder, blowing the snowflakes around in a vortex.

"My goodness," Mary breathed, looking out window above the sink, "I hope we won't have a storm."

"It wouldn't be the first time," Sybil remarked. "Our second December together the wind was so bad we could hardly get the front door to shut if we opened it."

"I remember you telling me that," Mary smiled. "We were all a bit worried for you then, especially with Sybbie so young. We thought you wouldn't make it to Downton in time for Christmas."

"Tom and I weren't sure we'd make it either," Sybil said. She paused in her vegetable chopping, remembering Sybbie's first Christmas when the snow was so high outside the door and the nights so chilly. The family had sent concerned messages from Downton every day, although most hadn't reached the Bransons until the storm had begun to subside. Sybil would always be able to recall lying in bed next to Tom, her head nestled against his warm chest, listening to baby Sybbie's cooing and the shutters beating against the side of the house due to the wailing wind. The weather had not been the most auspicious, but that had been the first time both Sybil and Tom felt that they finally had a family of their own, when their house in Dublin had at last become a home. Sybil would never trade her tiring but gratifying new life with Tom for the comfort and finery of her old one.

"We're all done in here," Tom called from the sitting room. Sybil and Mary went to inspect the tree, standing perfectly straight but only about an inch between the very top and the ceiling.

"Will you be able to put the star on top?" Mary wondered aloud. "It's awfully close, and I doubt you want your ceiling scratched."

"Don't worry, I can manage it," Tom shrugged.

Mary and Sybil shared a look. "If the tree falls over in the middle of the night, we'll have you to blame," Sybil declared.

"I'll blame the rest of them for letting him buy it in the first place," Mary put in, glancing pointedly at Matthew.

For the rest of the evening until dinner, the Bransons and their guests were occupied with preparing supper and bringing down boxes of ornaments and more decorations for the house. The Bransons did not have very many of their own ornaments, only ones that were given to Tom by his family, but both the Crawleys and the Pelhams had been thoughtful enough to bring a few of their own.

All three families then sat down at the kitchen table to eat, the children situated at one end and the surface of the table crowded with many delicious dishes. Outside the sky was dark but snow was still falling steadily.

"I wish we could afford those electric lights that they put up for the tree at Downton," Sybil said. "It would look awfully nice, the tree all lit up in the dark."

"What about the old tradition of putting candles on the branches?" Bertie suggested.

"I'd rather not do that, not with the children running about or simply the risk of a fire," Sybil replied. "Though it does sound like a rather romantic notion. Golden candlelight on the tree …"

"Granny says that when they first started the Christmas tree tradition at Downton, they'd also put food such as apples and nuts on the branches."

"I suppose children could be trusted back then not to eat things off of trees," Tom joked, playfully nudging Sybbie.

"I wouldn't eat the Christmas tree decorations!" Sybbie insisted, holding her chin up defiantly. The grown-ups chuckled.

"When can we go play in the snow?" George asked innocently.

Mary patted his hair softly. "Certainly not tonight. It seems that you'll freeze to death out there with all that wind blowing. Tomorrow morning I think, after your breakfast. If the weather stops being so blustery, that is."

George smiled up at his Mama. "But I want to play in the snow _all_ day. Nanny says I can only play for a short time. It's not enough."

"Nanny doesn't want you to catch cold," Mary said. "And I don't want you to either. Not after your father went trudging through the snow like an eskimo."

She shot a look towards Matthew, who pretended not to know any better. "Well, I couldn't do anything about it. It was Tom who kept us held up at the market, bargaining with the salesman while the snow was coming down—"

Tom made a motion for Matthew to stop talking as Sybil glared at him. "I trusted you to make sure our guests don't freeze to death on account of you arguing with the salesman."

"I wasn't arguing with him, I was _bargaining_. There's a difference," Tom countered.

"Either way, if I hear any sneezing in the middle of the night, it'll be _you_ acting as the nurse," Sybil said.

Everyone around the table laughed at Tom's flustered face, Sybbie hardest of all. Underneath the table, though, Tom's fingers were intertwining with Sybil's and she gave him an endearing smile. She did tease him even when there were not other people around, primarily to make Sybbie laugh that bubbly little giggle. It was a sound that lightened their hearts even on rough days, and Heaven knew they had so many of those.

* * *

Finally, the hour came when the boxes of ornaments were opened up and unearthed from the thick paper wrappings that kept them from breaking. Strings of beads were wrapped around the tree and strands of silver tinsel were flung across the branches. The children darted back and forth, carrying with them the beautiful glass ornaments that the Crawleys and Pelhams had brought from their homes as well as the hand-made ones that Tom's family had given to him. There were also homemade snowmen and snowflakes that the children had made with Sybil's help earlier.

The children hardly stopped in their work as they choose an ornament from one of the boxes and went to hang it on a low branch. Their parents worked on the higher branches, though guided by the children's requests. The tree began to become a vision of colour, covered with silver and red and gold that seemed to glimmer like a diamond in the soft yellow lamplight. A warm fire crackled in the grate, and Sybil and Edith prepared cups of tea and hot cocoa for everyone. It was a peaceful, lovely scene – all three happy families together, decorating the Christmas tree, the world seemingly without a single care to trouble any of them with.

"It's so beautiful," Edith sighed.

"It really is," Mary agreed. "You children have done so well."

"We're not done yet, Aunt Mary," Sybil said. She and George rummaged carefully through another package of ornaments, not one bit tired, even though it was later than either of their bedtimes. Marigold, however, had dozed off moments before, nestled up with Bertie in his chair.

Sybil settled next to Tom on the couch, watching Sybbie, George, Mary, Matthew and Edith continue to adorn the tree. "This is so nice," she mused. "Really, this is better than I could have imagined it."

"I told you the tree wouldn't be a problem," Tom said.

"I meant about gathering everyone here in Dublin for Christmas," Sybil corrected, lowering her voice. "It's not like at Downton, with all the servants or the fancy dinners or other guests. It's just us, doing what we like, and everything has been absolutely perfect."

Tom put his arm around Sybil's shoulders. "We're of one mind on that. This _is_ perfect – I don't' think I've heard a cross word between you and any of your sisters."

Sybil smiled. "Peace on earth and good will towards men, remember?"

"Of course."

"Look!" Sybbie cried. "I found the stockings!" She pulled out two velvety stockings and showed them around to everyone.

Sybil leaned over to see inside the box. "Are … are those the ones from Downton? The ones we had as children?"

Mary smiled and nodded. "It was Matthew who found them in the attic. Here, lets put them up above the fireplace."

She, Sybbie and Matthew unwrapped the burgundy and forest-green stockings lined with gold that Sybil hadn't seen for years. Soon, nine of them were hung above the glowing fireplace.

"One for each of us," Mary said. She bent down to George. "And very soon, on Christmas day, they'll be filled with wonderful toys and treats for you."

"From what I've heard, all of you children have been very good this year," Tom said, "so Father Christmas will certainly come here on Christmas Eve."

"How will he get down this chimney?" George asked. "It's so small, and he's supposed to be really big."

Tom and Matthew both chuckled. "Magic," Matthew answered.

"You don't have to worry about him getting stuck in the chimney," Tom said. "He makes it in alright every year. We haven't yet found a jolly old man in our sitting room on Christmas day."

"Besides Papa, of course," Mary put in. She and her sisters snickered.

After a while, everyone stepped back to admire the festive tree. All of the silver tinsel and glass ornaments seemed to make it glow like the Christmas star positioned at the top. It was without a doubt one of the most gorgeous trees any of them had seen.

"Wonderful," Sybil applauded. "All of your hard work has paid off. Now I think it's time that the children went to bed. It's rather late."

George and Sybbie seemed to want to protest, but George yawned and that was all the proof the grown-ups needed to know that they were exhausted. "Come on now," Matthew said, lifting George up. "Let's tuck you into bed."

"Sybbie, go upstairs and let Aunt Mary tuck you in," Tom told his little girl.

Sybbie ran over and kissed her father, and then her mother, goodnight. Everyone but Sybil and Tom trudged up the stairs, tired but content with their hard work. The tree was trimmed and the stocking were hung, waiting for Father Christmas' arrival.

"Hmm," Sybil murmured. "Finally, some time to ourselves."

"I don't think we've shared a moment alone since everybody arrived," Tom said. "What should we do?"

"I don't think we should do anything," Sybil decided. "Let's just sit here, together. I want this perfect moment to last as long as possible."

The snow was still falling, though much more softly now, and outside they could see the dim light illuminated in other windows. The cozy fire warmed the entire room. Sybil lifted her stockinged feet onto the couch and settled her head against Tom's shoulder. She closed her eyes. Everything was as it should be: no feuds, no tears, no broken hearts – only love, family merriment and holiday cheer. It truly felt like a proper Christmas, with her loving husband by her side and every one of her relatives with a smile across their faces. This was the December she'd always remember.

"Merry Christmas, my darling," Tom whispered into her ear.

"Merry Christmas, love."


End file.
